Sick
by Gezi
Summary: I froze, my breath caught. He was trying to stare me down and I wouldn't have caved if I hadn't passed out. AN: It's been a few years. Hope no one's too mad.
1. Ch 1

Title: Sick

Ch: 1

Disclaimer: Characters and such aren't mine.

-

I was watching the puddles ripple and grow in the rain slicked street. It seemed like the whole world was grey that day and my head was clouded with it.

I'd been in the park when it started to downpour, watching the lake and avoiding my homework, the scouts, and mom. I'd been thinking about my overwhelming amount of flaws and I blamed it on the dark day that my thoughts were so completely depressing. Now here I was and my mind was going numb over polluted puddles.

God, I was being so stupid. I bet it was all just because of the stupid math test that I'd bombed that morning. I had gotten so emotional over it too, almost crying, feeling so completely stupid. I hadn't even managed to get halfway through the damn thing!

I sighed, feeling the tears return. My body involuntarily shuddered from the goose bumps crawling over my skin. I sniffed, thinking it was about time to get home and take what was coming before I caught a cold. I wiped my nose on my wrist though it was more form habit than anything else.

That's when I noticed that I wasn't being drenched by the rain anymore. Was this one of my powers? Maybe... one I hadn't discovered yet? I watched the rain as it fell and I reached my hand out, wondering if it would get wet. Rain droplets slid over my finger tips and I snatched my hand back to study it in wonder.

"Find something interesting, Odango?" an amused voice behind me asked.

I recognized the mixture of ridicule and joking condescension immediately and my mood was completely spoiled. I turned and scowled at the cocky idiot behind me, taking note of the umbrella he was holding over us. I was slightly disappointed that it hadn't been a power of mine, but that wasn't what was important at the moment. He'd called me 'Odango' again.

"What do _you_ want, egomaniac?" I looked up at him from under my furrowed brows, trying my best to look menacing and not at all worth picking on.

His smirk flattened and his eyes narrowed on my face. It was a heart skipping and devastatingly handsome look, let me tell you, and it might have worked on me if he'd had a personality to match.

"Have you been crying?"

I was startled, not having seen his hand heading for my chin till it made contact. When he tilted my head up I found, to my disappointment, that the angle made it extremely hard to scowl without looking like I was squinting at him. My, no doubt, bloodshot eyes were clearly displayed for him to see.

Feeling extremely self-conscious under his sharp gaze, I ripped my chin from his hand. I didn't need his fake concern; he was probably going to make fun of me for crying, anyway. My hands balled at my sides as my eyes started watering again. I told myself to stop, but the more I wanted to, the harder it was to hold back. To my horror, a strangled squeak pressed passed my throat. I closed my eyes, feeling all too aware of Mamoru watching me. I didn't even know why I was crying.

My head fell to my shoulders, trying to curl up into myself and maybe, hopefully, disappear. Sobs were flowing from my mouth uncontrollably now, no matter how hard I tried to smother them with my hands. Why couldn't I stop? I wished he would just go away.

A feather light touch slid across my jaw to gripped the back of my neck, pressing me into warmth and causing me to start. My sobs stopped, suddenly finding myself being pressed into Mamoru's chest and when I met his dark eyes, he quirked an almost too faint smile at me.

I was frozen, my breath caught. What was he doing? My mind was on a loop, I couldn't get past the question to think of an answer, but, somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt his hand move from my neck to cup my cheek, his thumb wiping away my tears, leaving my skin tingling.

"You alright now?" His voice hummed inside my head and vibrated my chest.

It was a soothing hum and I wanted him to make me vibrate again. Wait (I blinked)...I wanted what?

"Odango," his brows furrowed, "you okay?"

I moved my lips, hoping that some sort of coherent sound would come out, but nothing came. He smirked, knowingly.

"Alright, why don't I walk you home, then?" He pushed on softly, turning me in his arm as he pulled us into a slow stroll.

The movement and his slathering of condescension over the moment woke me from my vegetative state. I pushed out of his loose embrace, feeling the rain slide over me once again. The brisk movement jolted something and a fog settled over my head, making my vision hazy.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Mamoru-baka," I tried to focus on him, "I don't need you to."

Stepping towards me so that his umbrella covered me again, he stooped to peer into my face.

"What?" I asked, leaning away from his inspection, but the odd angle made me feel dizzy.

"You look flushed; are you feeling alright?" He asked, pressing his hand against my forehead.

"I'm fine."

I shrunk from him, feeling awkward. What was he doing? Frowning, Mamoru straightened his back, but his eyes didn't stray. He was trying to stare me down and I wouldn't have caved if I hadn't passed out.


	2. Ch 2

I woke up with a collar of steam hugging my neck. I could feel wisps of hair sticking to the delicate skin there, damp with sweat. My sheets were clinging to my legs like a second skin, smothering them, and I was suffocating from the scorching humidity engulfing me. I tried to kick the covers off, but they were tucked so tightly over me that it hardly gave. I whimpered from the torture.

"You're okay, Usagi. Calm down," a low voice soothed.

I squinted my eyes open and a soft light flooded my vision, outlining a fuzzy shadow of a figure leaning over me. A cool hand brushed against my forehead, removing the sticky strands of hair before laying down a cold cloth. The tension in my brow eased with relief and I blinked to clear the fog over my vision.

"Dad?" I rasped, my throat coated in a thick residue.

"Not quite," his voice was soft. I could hear a smirk lace his words, though, and I immediately knew who it was.

"Mamoru? What are you doing in my room?" I asked, though, I couldn't find enough energy to really care. I was too busy suffering from the sudden heat wave. I wheezed a cough, feeling too drained to even do that right.

"We're not in your room," he answered.

"We're not?"

I let my eyelids slide closed, wondering if maybe I could of been dreaming or if maybe he was a mirage. Maybe the heat was really getting to me. It had to of been if I was dreaming of Mamoru.

The mirage Mamoru hummed a 'no'. "We're in mine."

His cool hand smoothed over my cheek tenderly and slid down to my neck. I sighed as his fingertips started to peel away the sticky strands of hair, feeling marginally better with them gone.

"Oh," I answered vaguely, my attention focused more on his very real hand than on what he'd said.

I licked my cracked lips, doing little good. My saliva was thick around my tongue and the back of my throat stung from the lack of moisture when I inhaled. I tried to stifle a cough, but it was no use. The heaviness in my chest wanted out and I shook with hacking coughs. I heaved a sigh when the fit was over, the air pricking and tickling on it's way down. Suddenly, the cloth on my forehead was gone and my head was being tilted forward. I opened my eyes to stare questioningly at Mamoru when he moved a glass to my lips.

"It's water," he said before tilting it and a rush of cold touched my lips and flooded my mouth.

I closed my eyes and gulped down as much as I could while trying to ignore the gross taste my stale breath gave it. After a moment, he lifted the glass away and dabbed the corners of my mouth with a cloth as I panted for air.

"You want more?" he asked.

I opened my eyes and shook my head, feeling incredibly awkward after such unusual attention.

"Could I," my voice cracked. I grunted before starting over. "Could I use your bathroom?"

"Uh, yeah," he gave a short pause, "sure."

He hesitated loosening the covers from the bed. I sat up slowly, pausing shortly to wait for my head to stop swimming.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," I pushed myself to the edge of the bed. "Just a little dizzy," I giggled weakly, swinging my legs over the edge.

My toes brushed the hardwood floor and I jerked my knees up, reflexively, from the shock of cold. I hugged the covers on my lap a bit tighter, the heat from before not seeming so bad anymore.

"Want some help?" Mamoru hovered beside me.

"No, I'm okay," I braced myself as my right foot made contact with the floor again.

The shock wasn't so bad after a moment and I slid my other foot down. Keeping my hands on the bed for balance, I pushed myself off completely, thinking that I'd need a step latter to get back in. A chill in the air washed over my legs as they came out from beneath the covers, making me fight an urge to climb back into bed and forget about rinsing my face of its sticky residue. I took an unsure step towards the door and, feeling more confident after not falling over, let go of the bed.

"Are you sure, Odango?"

"I'm fine," I spat, irritated at his casual drop the name, and he raised his hands at me.

I shot him a glare and took another step, this time without hesitation, but because I'm very much the laughing stock of the universe, my foot got caught in a sheet fold that had absolutely no business being on the floor. I lurched forward and my head began to spin from the motion.

Then, Mamoru was there; his arm around my waist and his hand on my shoulder, keeping me from falling. I groaned from the injustice of it all. I opened my eyes when my head calmed, but didn't bother standing up, hoping that what had just happened hadn't really happened.

I furrowed my brows at my bare legs thinking it was strange that they weren't being covered by my school uniform. I squeaked and stood up, stiff as a board, until my head started reeling again. I stumbled slightly, but was still able to push myself away from Mamoru.

"W-where are my clothes?" I pulled down on the tails of the white dress shirt that wasn't mine, but, for some reason, I was wearing. "What did you do with my clothes? Why am I wearing this? What did you do with my clothes, hentai?!" I screeched.

I felt frantic. He'd seen me naked. Him, flawless, has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, Mamoru, had seen me naked. I yanked on my collar to see inside with a bit more force than necessary, but felt a sliver of relief to see my plain and completely not exciting under-things still in place, though a bit damp. I crumpled the collar in my fist in an almost choke hold around my neck, anxiously.

So, what was he going to do now? Laugh at me? Make a comment on my completely under developed boobs? Or about how scrawny I was even though I eat way too much? 'But where does it all go, Odango?'

Suddenly, looking at anything above floor level seemed impossible and I couldn't help thinking that a hole would have been nice right about then.

Mamoru sighed and dragged a hand through his black hair. "They're in the bathroom, drying." He sounded tired, exasperated. As if I was completely unjustified for freaking out. Oh, and I bet Mr. Perfect had no problem with people seeing his tan, muscle-y self in all his naked glory. "You're sick, Usagi. Letting you stay in wet clothes wouldn't have been smart."

That made me angry. Oh, I'm sick, am I? Thanks for telling me, baka. I'm sure I wouldn't have understood that without your complete and utter condescension to tell me. I lifted my head to glare at him from under my brow.

"Oh, really," I growled. "Well, that makes it alright, now doesn't it? You hentai!"

"Well, what was I supposed to do, Odango?" he asked, smartly. "Let you soak in your clothes and get pneumonia?"

My lips were ready to spit fire back at him, but my brain was coming up short. Yeah, okay so, he'd been trying to help me, but...I mean...shouldn't he have asked me first...or something? Now that was stupid. How could he have? A fit. I was having a fit. I wanted to stomp and yell 'yes, you should have' and I wanted it to make so much sense that he'd feel stupid, but knowing it wouldn't only made me feel helpless and frustrated.

He always did that; made things seem so simple. As if saying how could things be any way other than his way. Because his way made perfect and logical sense. And if you disagreed you were childish and stupid.

Well, I felt childish and stupid and it was his fault. Below my balled up fingers, my throat was burning, feeling tight. I tried to swallow and dislodge the burning ball, but instead the waterworks in my eyes turn on.

I dropped my head to glare at my feet, telling myself to stop. I'd made a big enough of an idiot of myself, but that didn't make me feel any better and the burning ball jolted, bring another well of tears. But then, my loathing stare at my feet was interrupted by a gentle tug on one of my steams of hair and, before I caught myself, I lifted my head slightly to meet Mamoru's sad eyes. Stooping down in front of me, he gave me an apologetic slant of his lips.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

And, suddenly, all the burning frustration was gone. I gave a deep sniff, relieved that my chest allowed me to do so, and let my eyes dance between his. They looked so earnest. I just wanted to give him a big smile and deny that I'd been crying. Or hug him and apologize for being such a baby. Of course, he did the right thing. I was just over reacting, like always.

But before I could decide what to really do, his hand left my hair and moved to my cheeks, cleaning my tears away. Like he'd done in the rain. Reality seemed to fog over as my eyelids grew heavier, reveling in the comfort of his hand. Gently, I pressed my cheek into his palm, seeking more of his therapeutic touch.

But, without warning or any decent sense of timing, an irritating tickle in my throat pulled me out of my semi-dream like state and back to Earth where I was sick and a coughing fit could not be ignored. Pulling away from his hand, I turned and smothered my mouth with both my hands as a particularly goo-y sounding fit wracked my body. When all the phlegm was dislodged, I heaved a deep prickling sigh of relief, the whole act taking whatever energy I'd had right out of me.

It was in the next recuperative moment of silence that I realized, just before my fit, I'd been cuddling with Mamoru's hand. My imagination played out what I must of looked like through his eyes and I could feel the fire of embarrassment through my fever. I'd practically made out with it. That's probably what he'd say too. But after a stretch of silence and feeling his eyes bare into me, I realized he wasn't going to say anything at all.

"Um," I started awkwardly, not being able to stand the heavy moment any longer, "the bathroom?" I looked over his shoulder to the doorway.

Odds were, his smile was mocking me and I didn't need to see that.


	3. Ch 3

I'd been sitting on the toilet, staring at my knees, trying to wait out my embarrassment when there was a knock on the door.

"You okay in there?" came Mamoru's muffled voice.

I wished I hadn't been. I wished I had flushed myself down the toilet about ten minutes ago, but my hair would have probably clogged it up and I would have been spit right back out, anyhow.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I called back, my embarrassment renewed.

Why couldn't he just go away and leave a girl to her sulking self-hatred?

"Well, I made some tea and if you'd stop sulking and come out, you can have some."

I could hear his smirk again and it irked me. As if he knew everything. As if he could read me so easily. As if there weren't any doubt in the world that he was right about me sulking. I wished for once he'd been wrong.

I stood from the toilet, pointedly ignoring his offer, and reached to grip the bottom hem of my skirt. I'd been checking it every few minutes for the past twenty hoping that the universe would show some mercy, but each time water dripped over my hand, and I'd fall back onto the toilet seat cover with a disappointed sigh, wiping my hand on Mamoru's shirt.

I sighed again as water pooled into my palm. Stupid Usagi. Who stands out in the rain? I scoffed, balling my fists. Grow up.

"You coming out or not?" Mamoru asked, his smirk gone, his face close to the door.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll be right out!" the perkiness in my voice surprised me, but I felt proud. He didn't have to know what was going through my head.

I flushed the toilet for effect, but felt kind of silly afterwards. Who was I trying to fool? I splashed cold water over my face, feeling claustrophobic in my skin; being too hot and too cold at the same time, and dirty, and tense... and tired, but the water helped and I felt more awake as I rubbed my face with a plush towel. I smiled my brightest smile into the mirror before opening the door.

Mamoru had been leaning on the door frame with a cup of tea in his hand, which he offered me with something an untrained eye could easily mistake as a good-natured smile. I accepted it with a mumbled thanks and trained my attention on the dark yellow liquid in the mug, sparing him only a quick glance when he didn't make to move. Did he want to see me drink it? I sniffed at the cup. There had to be something wrong with it.

"You hungry?" he asked.

I shook my head at the cup. "I should get home. My parents are probably really worried."

Which was true. I wasn't just making up an excuse to get away from him. Well, not completely, any ways. How long had I been out? Two, three hours? I glanced around for a clock already knowing that I wouldn't be able to find one with Mamoru blocking the doorway.

There was a momentary pause and I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, feeling more awkward than usual under Mamoru's stare. I glanced at him as I dipped my head, still focusing on the cooling cup in my hands; it's slight warmth making goose bumps on my skin. He shifted slightly before turning and walking into his livingroom.

"The storm hasn't let up yet. Once it does, I'll take you home," he threw over his shoulder at me.

I hesitated following him, still feeling very aware of how little I was wearing. I reached back into the bathroom for the hem of my skirt. The cloth was still soaked and I mumbled a groan, wiping my hand on Mamoru's shirt again.

"You can call your parents and tell them you're waiting out the storm at a friend's house," Mamoru reappeared holding out a cordless phone. "So, they won't worry."

I nodded and took the phone, but paused to stare at it. 'Friend's house'? I glanced up at Mamoru, still finding it difficult to look at him for more than a second at a time. I guess, since he had helped me, you could call us that.

My parents were really relieved to hear from me, but, to my disappointment, they were also completely supportive of me "staying put" until the storm was over. I'd kind of hoped they'd demand that I come home, but instead, to my complete horror, my mom asked to talk to Mamoru and thank him for helping me.

I watched as twenty years melted from Mamoru's old-man complex instantly as he smiled into the phone at mom. He had to of been faking it, this wasn't Mamoru. The Mamoru I knew didn't smile, he smirked.

Mamoru clicked off the phone, his smile still in place. "You hungry now?"

I glared up at him. Who did he think he was fooling? And now because of him I had to stay with him instead of being home with my family where I wanted to be. The idiot. But before I could express my thoughts, the heaviness in my chest decided it needed out again and I was rendered speechless with hacking coughs.

The cup of tea was lifted from my hands and I instantly reached up to cover my mouth, my eyes clenching shut against the force of my coughs. A soothing hand ran the length of my back leaving trails of tingling warmth. The fit left me lightheaded and my throat felt raw and hot, each breath stinging on it way down.

"You done?" Mamoru asked.

I nodded, my attention focused on the new wheeze in my breath as he lead me into his livingroom. He moved from my side momentarily to retrieve the throw from his couch before wrapping it around me.

"Here, watch some T.V.," he handed me the remote before disappearing into the kitchen.

I stared after him feeling very confused. Did Mamoru have a twin brother?


	4. Ch 4

"It's instant, but it's good," he'd said after offering me a plate of curry rice.

I'd been watching Milk-chan, trying to ignore the chill in my bones and the sweat on my brow, when he'd stuck the plate under my nose. I stared at it for a second wondering if my stomach could take it. Hesitantly, I lifted a hand out from under his throw feeling it wouldn't be nice of me to not accept it or to let it go to waste. Food was food after all. In front of me, on his coffee table, Mamoru set a glass of water which I practically jumped at and finished in one movement. My breath hadn't tasted as foul that time, letting me relish the liquid flowing through my mouth and down my throat. I snaked my tongue out to lick the few remaining drops from the corner of my lips, feeling the best I'd felt since I'd woken-up, but as I opened my eyes I was met with the amused expression on Mamoru's face and the contentment faded.

"What?" I asked defensively, feeling a little embarrassed from my display.

His mocking smirk grew slightly. "Would you like some more?"

I dipped my head a little. "No," I stressed, "I'm fine."

He stared at me for a second longer before turning and heading back into the kitchen. I glared at him as he went, wishing he hadn't been such a snob; another glass would have been nice. I set my cup on the glass coffee table and turn my attention back to the steaming plate on my lap. It did look a bit more appetizing after the glass of water. I sniffed at it, feeling if my stomach would react, but that was it. Whether my stomach wanted it or not, curry was just too good to pass up. My taste-buds jumped for joy as I shoved in a fork full, my eyelids automatically closing for full effect. The mixture of yummy taste and warmth made my body tingle all over in comfort. Idly, I wondered how I'd ever doubted eating it in the first place. By the time Mamoru had come back in, half my plate was gone. I blushed slightly when he looked down at me, a bit surprised.

"What?" I asked again, feeling a bit overly judged for a sick girl. "It's good."

He gave a soft chuckle and set down two glasses of water on his coffee table, one next to my empty cup.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it," he agreed and between the food and him bringing me more water, I couldn't really justify getting mad at him for laughing. So, instead, I took another bite of curry and turned my attention back to Milk-chan, once again feeling like an immature little kid.

I couldn't concentrate on it, though, too aware of the man beside me and I found myself sneaking a side glance at him, wondering why. Why was he being somewhat of a human-being to me? Why had he even cared that I'd been out in the rain? I mean, enough that he wanted to walk me home. And then taking care of me and cooking me this? I looked down at the empty-except-for-one-bite plate in my lap as I sucked thoughtfully on my chopsticks.

"There's more if you want it," Mamoru's offer broke my train of thought and I lifted my head to give him a blank look.

"What?" I asked dumbly, my chopsticks still hanging off my bottom lip. I hadn't realized how close he'd been sitting and it startled me slightly when I looked up at him.

"Do you want more?"

And, idly, I wondered how his eyes had managed to look so blue and black at the same time. And with the t.v. being the only light in the room, the shadows on his face seemed a bit harsh, letting me glimpse the slight bags under his eyes. They seemed so out of place, but then again, it did explain why every time I saw him, he was slumped over a cup of coffee. His eyes moved to glance at my chopsticks before meeting my eyes again and it hit me, how idiotic I must of looked with my mouth slightly agape and chopsticks hanging out. And I'd probably look less stupid, my mind admonished, if I answered his question. Taking the chopsticks out of my mouth, I looked down at my plate, searching my memory for what he'd asked.

"Uh, no. I'm fine, thanks," which sent my cheeks ablaze, feeling like my answer had done nothing to make me look less of a retard.

But the thought didn't linger as I felt the cushion beside me dip a bit deeper and I looked up at the movement, curiously. Suddenly enough to make my heart leap out of my chest like Luna when I step on her tail, Mamoru's hand wrapped itself around my cheek, curling his fingers firmly behind my neck, feeling cool against my heat. I knitted my eyebrows together as I formed the first syllable of "what" on my lips which he smothered by pushing his lips softly against mine.

And just like that, I'd forgotten how to breath. My lungs froze, or maybe just didn't have enough room to expand because my heart instantly felt like it had grown enormous and was about to explode. Startled, I pulled away, forcing in a deep breath that sounded like a gasp. His hand lingered, his fingers buried in the curls at the base of my head, burning my skin pleasantly. But that was only in the back of my mind. In the front, I was in complete shock and I couldn't think a coherent thought. I just watched as Mamoru smiled at me.

"You're too cute," he said softly, but it was enough to bring my mind back to me.

"I," my voice rasped, but when I cleared my throat I realized I really had no idea what to say. So, I tried again, pushing away his hand, "I...I, uh...what?" No, now I was sounding like an idiot again. Forcefully, I pressed my eyelids together, trying my best to squeeze out an understandable question. "What just happened?" I asked _finally_ and let my lids fall apart now that the hard work had been done.

And it occurred to me as I took the site of him in again, only this time with a semi-functioning brain, that the situation wasn't nearly as mind-boggling to him as it was to me.

"I kissed you," he said simply and I wanted to punch him.

"Yeah, I _got_ that," I spat back at him tersely. "But..." I continued, feeling slightly embarrassed, "_why_?"

He shifted his body slightly away from me, reclining it, looking relaxed and untroubled.

"Why not?" he asked, playing dumb. He was feeding my fire and I knit my brows together, though truly I was grateful. I'd rather be mad at him than embarrassed, any time.

"Because _you_ HATE me!" I explained forcefully. My mind filled in further, playing back the list of insults he'd thrown at me regularly. I narrowed my eyes at him.

Mamoru furrowed his brows as he scrutinized my face. "I never said that," he admonished in a tone so mixed, I couldn't understand it. So, I went with condescension.

"You might as well have," I fought back. "You _never_ miss a chance to make fun of me. And don't sit there acting stupid!"

"Just because I tease you doesn't mean I dislike you," he defended, but it was as mistake, I was sure of it.

I paused, mentally knocking aside the butterflies jolting in my stomach, waiting for him to take it back. I wanted him to take it back; he couldn't have meant it and the sooner he got it straight, the better.

My anger grew steadily as seconds passed and he didn't.

"_Yes_ it _does_," I pressed between my teeth, keenly feeling the sting in my jaw. Something was burning in the fire inside me, but I ignored it as I balled my fists. "Why wouldn't you, Mr. Perfect," I spat, "Mr. Calm-Cool-and Collected?"

He looked surprised. His eyes searched my face, making me aware of the tears welled in my eyes. I was determined to not let them fall, all at once embracing and afraid of his judgement. I knew he thought I was a crybaby and I wanted to remind him of it, but I didn't want to prove it. I felt so confuse.

"It was a joke, wasn't it?" I asked, incredulously, though my mind had been made up that it had been. It was the only reason I could think of that made any sense. I didn't wait for him to answer. "That was my _first_ kiss, you know!" I stood from the couch, too angry to sit. I let the throw fall from around my shoulders, not caring. I was too preoccupied with his emotionless face and restraining my urge to claw at it. "You _sick, arrogant_..." I tried to think of a word bad enough, but my brain was boiling and I was coming up short. So I change tactics, "I was saving that kiss! I wanted to give it to someone who _loved_ me! And you just _stole_ it! Like it's nothing! Like a Goddamn JOKE!" I stomped my foot, trying to let out some of the frustration. If I didn't, I was going to explode, but it didn't help. His face was so stoic, as if I were speaking a different language. My fists flexed at my sides, digging nails into skin.

He stood and I backed away, not wanting to be anywhere near him. He reached out, ignoring my movement, to clasp my shoulders. His calm eyes looked into mine.

"Usagi..."

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!" I screeched, not wanting him to talk. He was so good at turning things around, I couldn't give him the chance. "HOW CAN YOU NOT GET IT?!"

And very casually cool, he fired back, "I don't think it's me that doesn't get it."

I wanted to slap him. I wanted to moon-dust him. I wanted a train to come right through his wall and crush him. And I wanted to be the one driving it.

"And what's THAT supposed to mean, you _freakazoid_?" I folded my arms across my chest, waiting on edge for him to answer.

If he made me feel any more childish and stupid, I was going to break. I didn't exactly know what that meant, but it was close. My insides were already in shreds, but I wouldn't spare a moment to wonder at how such a callous joke from someone I couldn't care less about had hurt so much. It was the principle of the thing, I told myself.

He faltered for a moment, looking unsure, and I wanted to yell in bitter triumph, "You see! You see!"

"It means," he sighed deeply and something in his eyes changed. They were more fragile and I didn't like it. "It means, my little Odango Atama, that I love you."


	5. Ch 5

My jaw fell open as I stared up at Mamoru in astonishment.

It was like fireworks of confetti exploding inside my stomach, the little pieces of paper colliding with the walls in fluttering beats. I couldn't think of anything else. My brain had failed me again, crashed into a brick wall. Bits and piece everywhere.

I had to pull myself together.

He loved me. I repeated it, I don't know how many times, but it didn't make any more sense than when he'd said it. He loved me? Could it be possible? No, he was playing with me again. Had to be. The confetti started to burn and I snapped out of my stupor.

"What's wrong with you!" I yelled in his face, more furious than I'd ever been before.

My fists balled, ready to be thrown at his face. All that time I'd thought that deep down, I mean really deep, but still somewhere inside Mamoru there was something decent. He couldn't have been as mean as he'd seemed. I'd seen glimpses of kindness on the rare occasion he'd extended himself. But now. Bitterness boiled in the back of my throat as I watched the smirk disappear completely from his face.

"You're sick!" I thrashed my fist over my lips, trying to make the tingling stop. My eyes flooded with tears as I glared at him, my anger making me want to throw up. And he had the nerve to just stand there, looking confused. He didn't seem to understand how low he'd sunk.

"Usagi, calm down," he sighed, frowning deeply.

I stopped scrubbing my lips and stared at him in disbelief, anger boiling. For a brief moment, I didn't know what to do with myself. My insides were red hot, I'd never felt so intensely, let alone angry, in my life. I wanted to laugh insanely, but instead, I lunged forward and shoved him.

"Calm down?" I asked, incredulously.

He grasped my wrists as I shoved him again. "Yes, Usagi. Calm down," he ordered.

I breathed deeply, trying to tear and shake my hands free, but the bastard wouldn't let go. The futileness slowly sunk in and I let out of cry of frustration, fixing him with a burning stare through a blurry gaze, waiting for him to make this seem simple and logical. I'd hate him forever if he did.

His eyes searched my face, watching for any signs that I'd lash out on him again if he let go. My breathing calmed and his grip loosened. I took my hands back, but didn't try to hit him again, knowing he'd just restrain me if I did. Wiping furiously at my cheeks, I waited.

He sighed and fell back a step, his head drooping as he reached a hand to rub his neck. My anger cooled to a simmer as I found myself interested in what he would say. Looking back up at me, his eyes were desperate for something and I got the feeling he needed it from me, but I didn't know what it was. And I was angry at myself for wanting to help. I squashed the feeling on the spot, but I couldn't shake the sudden far fetched and illogical idea that he might have been serious. I gulped.

"Well?" I prompted, needing to know what the hell was going on inside his head, for my own sanity's sake.

"I..." he hesitated, his eyes shifting between each of my eyes. "I know," he finished simply.

Staring at him, it took me a moment to realize that that was it, he wasn't going to continue. My anger flared a little with frustration.

Furrowing my brows, I spat at him, "What? What do you know?"

Sighing, his eyes steadied and pressed into mine.

"Usagi... I _know_," he explained, hinting at something I didn't understand. "About _you_," he continued as I shook my head.

Then, alarm bells, faint as they were, started to go off in my head, but I pointedly ignored them. He could of meant plenty of other things, no need to jump to such dire conclusions, I scolded myself. He noted that I stopped shaking my head and took it as a sign. I wasn't just going to hand it to him, though. He was going to have to say it exactly and even then, I wasn't sure how I was going to react. So, I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

It was a stalemate as we watched each other in silence, I didn't know for how long. Rolling my eyes, I leaned back on my feet and crossed my arms.

"Well, what do you know about me?" I slanted my head up at him, giving what I hoped was a hard look, "And what does it have anything to do with you stealing my first kiss?"

A slow smile spread across his lips. "Well, nothing really. I'd wanted to do that for a while. It was source of guilt, but now," his smile spread wider, "since I've found out..."

"Found out what?!" I asked, exasperated that he wouldn't just come out and say it.

He seemed startled that I hadn't caught on. "You're the Moon Princess."

I gawked at him as he looked at me so earnestly, as if there were, once again, no doubt of him being right. A surge of giddiness shot through me at the thought of him being so outrageously wrong. I laughed.

"You...you think," I gasped, clutching at my rib cage. This was just too good. The more I thought of it, the harder it was for me to catch my breath. "What," I tried to speak again. "What, in the _world_," I gasped, calming down slightly, "made you think," I wiped my eyes free of tears, my breath slowly returning to normal, "_I_ am the Princess?" I steadied my mirthful eyes back on his stoic face, curious to hear his answer. It was sure to be good.

Mamoru frowned slightly, his eyebrows dipping inquisitively. "You mean, you don't know?"

I quirked an eyebrow at him, smirking still. "I'd think I'd know if I were," I stated, still with mirth.

"I'd think so too," he responded, puzzled, his over all belief of my identity not wavering.

I started to get frustrated again. He just couldn't ever be wrong, could he. Even when the blatant, undeniable truth is standing right in front of him, for all commonsense to see. Really, me, the Moon Princess. Right.

"Well, I'm not," I glared at him, "so, just get over it."

Something inside my chest sank with those words. The thing that believed in fairy tales, true love, and soul mates. I frowned, realizing what it meant and not liking it. His eyebrows pressed together even tighter as if trying to see through lead.

"No, really," he pressed, taking a step closer to me, "you are."

I started to feel dizzy again as I stared up at him, but I tried to suppress it as a new thought occurred to me. Dropping my arms to my sides, my eyes widened in astonishment.

"How do _you_ know about the Princess?" My mind reeled as it asked me in an annoyed, frustrated tone how _I_ was going to explain knowing too.

Fuck. As much as cussing wasn't part of my vocabulary, I had to admit, anxiously, that I had stupidly backed myself into a corner I knew my brain power could not get me out of. I was suddenly relieved Rei hadn't been there, but regretted most desperately that Ami wasn't. Or Lita; she could of just knocked him out, problem solved.

Turning my attention back to Mamoru, I realized that he hadn't responded yet. His eyes were staring at nothing, letting me see the indecision in them. But that didn't last long, one thing I grudgingly admired about him. His jaw set, his eyes steady on mine, he took another step towards me to gently grab my shoulders. I had to bend my head pretty far back to meet his gaze.

"Because I know, there's no doubt in my mind, that you _are_ the Princess, even if you don't know it yet, I am going to trust you with something," his eyes danced between mine, serious and pressing. "But, you _have_ to promise me to not tell a soul."

He paused as I contemplated whether I really wanted to know this something about him that seemed so direly secret. Unfortunately, before I could decide, my head nodded.

"You're not going to believe me," he sighed under his breath. His eyes shifted, gazing at me with remorse. I gulped, not knowing what to expect. "Many years ago," he set a slow, rhythmic pace, "I fell in love with a girl. Someone truly out of reach. But, by some grace, she looked down and took notice of me, against all wise judgement," he smirked softly at me, finding humor I didn't. "It was during at time when we really couldn't be together, but it did little to stop us." I wanted to smile now, at what I thought was over dramatization, trying to sound epic. Like Romeo and Juliet. But I bit my lip, sensing that now wasn't really the time for teasing. "She died," a flash of red hair and an echo of shrieking laugher blossomed and faded inside my head in seconds, "I tried to save her- but..." he paused and I thought of a warm black cape with red lining, a lot like Tuxedo Mask's. Red spilling everywhere until I could see nothing but black.

He was staring at me now, taking notice of something that flashed across my face. I pulled myself back, physically and mentally, from him, not knowing what to make of these new thoughts.

"Well," I prompted, wanting him to stop staring, "what happened next?" It sounded callus and prying, if truly she'd died and he'd loved her, but I didn't know what else to say.

He stepped towards me again, backing me against the edge of the couch. "I forgot everything," his eyes burned. "She haunted me in my dreams, though. To the point of insomnia. I didn't know why I wanted to see her so badly, but was so sickeningly repelled. I felt guilty and didn't know why."

"What made you remember?" I asked softly, torn between believing him and thinking he was insane. Either way, a heavy, sticky ball in my chest felt on the brim of exploding at his continued tormented stare.

"Tonight. When you were passed out. You called me Endymion. Something only the Princess from my dreams has called me. You sounded just as desperate as she had, but when I touched you, you relaxed and I remembered."

He leaned over me, making me almost fall back on the couch, but then his arm was there, pressing me against him. My head fell to his chest as his leaned against the top of mine. I stared wide eyed at nothing, not knowing what to think or do. I was scared, though. He seemed so sincere, like he needed me to be her. I didn't move as his palm laid on my cheek, fingers stroking my neck. This wasn't the Mamoru I knew.

After a moment of silence, I slowly peeled myself from him, gave him a failing smile, and moved around him. I needed to get away from him to think. Clearing my throat, I gave him another glance, taking note of how still he was standing, only his eyes following me. Quickly. I had to have a thought and come to a conclusion quickly. I pressed myself for something, but he'd successfully smashed my mind into another brick wall.

I cleared my throat again and paced. "You have memories of the Moon Princess," I began, stating the obvious, hoping it'd bring me somewhere. "You not only know about her, but you have memories," I grasped for something. "You're looking for her," I stated, but gave him a questioning glace at which he nodded. "Because you used to date her," it sounded silly, but I pressed on. I had an urge to ask him if he had any leads, but my mind stopped me, reminding me that he thought I was her. Shaking my head, I glanced at him again which gave me inspiration. "You're Tuxedo Mask!" I gasped, pausing in my stride. He nodded, unmoved by my discovery. I smiled ruefully, thinking it figured the perfect Chiba Mamoru who teased me during the day would be the perfect Tuxedo Mask who saved me by night. I started pacing again, suddenly wanting Rei there. She'd be so delighted. From there, my mind dead ended. Yes, a piece of the puzzle had been solved, but it didn't seem to change anything. I was still at square one with this whole Princess thing. I needed Ami. I sighed.

"Well, that's all I got," I turned to him, giving up. "I still think you're crazy, but at least I know who's saving my butt all the time," I tried to lighten the mood, ignoring his unveiled need for me to be someone I wasn't. He didn't seem to notice my revealing statement. Half of me was relieved, the other had intentionally made the slip.

The quiet in the room helped my mind switch over and realize the rain had stopped at some point. Finally. I needed some fresh air. And to get away from him, I glanced at Mamoru, who was passing a frustrated hand through his hair. I ignored that too.

"The rain's stopped," I pointed out, breaking the thick silence. "I guess I should get dressed so you can take me home," I smiled weakly, starting towards the bathroom.

He grasped my wrist lightly as I passed him. His head was hung slightly, his eyes meeting mine. It looked like they wanted to cry, but he wouldn't let them.

"You are her," he stated matter-of-fact-ly.

I just nodded indecisively, before retreating to the bathroom. My eyes blurred as I shut the door.


	6. Ch 6

My dad isn't going to like this, I thought as I pulled the strings on Mamoru's pajama pants tight around my waist. My clothes were still damp, but I didn't mind; I would've worn them anyway, but Mamoru said he minded before shoving a hooded sweatshirt into my arms along with the pants.

I did feel warmer and as I pulled the front of the sweatshirt to my nose, I felt fingers of comfort run the length of my spine. His clothes and the feeling threatened to swallow me whole, but I couldn't bring myself to mind. Something dull, achy, and heavy did make itself apparent very low in my stomach, though.

I avoided the mirror as I gathered my clothes from the toilet seat and left the bathroom.

His apartment was deathly silent as I walked back into the living room. He was sitting on the couch and as I looked down at him, he looked up at me with incredibly still eyes, shallow as a puddle, making that thing in my stomach get heavier and achier and I had to look away.

I moved to the door to slide on my shoes, giving him a sign that it was time to go. He followed, giving me a generous breath of space. A slight bitter smile grew on my lips, wondering if this was what it was going to be like from now on.

As we slid onto the seats of Mamoru's car, I couldn't help but shrink into this clothes, berrying myself deeply, feeling as though they could hide me from all the dark and cold. My eyes settled for looking out the passenger window, never daring to stray. Mamoru quietly told me to buckle up, but the rest of the ride was silent after that.

I watched as tall buildings gave way to row-houses and row-houses to trees and single homes, street lamps flicking past along the way. I frowned, thinking that the trip was going by far too quickly, but not knowing why I'd want it last longer. The air was stiff and the silence, bleak and consuming. I sighed, seeing my house come into sight.

His car slowed to a still and I stared at the front door sadly. I knew, if I left now, we'd never talk again. He'd avoid my routs, so we wouldn't run into each other. If our paths ever did cross (which was bound to happen with Andrew being his best friend and all) he'd never meet my eyes, never acknowledge my presence, never call me Odango Atama.

My eyes were gradually filling with tears, my gut wrenching, and for the life of me, I couldn't move my hand to the car door handle. I stayed, contemplating what being saved by Tuxedo Mask would do to me. Would I cry every time, feeling a bitter-sweet tear in my chest, agonizingly wonderful to be held by him.

After a long moment of still silence, I glance at Mamoru's hands which still hugged the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Was he mad? I didn't have the guts to find out. I sighed deeply, finally feeling prickles of cold scramble down my arms.

But I didn't want to leave and even if I wanted to try, I knew I wouldn't be able to move myself. This couldn't be over, I denied. Somewhere, somehow, along the way, even leaving out him being Tuxedo Mask, I'd formed a strong, peculiar attachment to Mamoru. One that I couldn't believe would be severed in a matter of four hours, two of which I wasn't even conscious. It was more important than that.

I looked at him from the corner of my eye as he finally gave sign of life. Sighing, he dropped his hands from the wheel and tilted his head to look at me. After a moment of staring, he grasped my hand loosely and I started, having not seen him reach for it. Gently, he examined my fingers and I turned my head a little to watch him, nothing in me intending to pull away.

He sighed again and met my eyes. His eyes were no longer shallow, but had gained fathoms of sadness. I held fast in my gaze, willing him to forgive and forget.

"You know," he started softly, a husk of stored emotion lacing his words, "even before all this," he paused to set his jaw and shift his eyes so that they pressed deeply into mine, "I'd always wanted you."

I hadn't been expecting that, but his words didn't need time to sink in. Like the heat of hot chocolate on a cold day, his words bloomed inside me, lighting a healing fire beneath my skin. Goose-bumps rose and fought against the prickly chill, valiantly.

His eyes dropped back to my fingers as they hung limply at the edge of his grip. After considering them for a moment he continued.

"You see, there's this wall," he slanted his body towards the passenger's side, "I've built," he paused, considering again. "Well, not consciously, but in the way I've reacted to people without really thinking. It's just," he paused again, demonstrating, not for the first time that night, how hard it was for him to explain himself. I was profoundly touched that he was trying anyway. "When I'm around people," he continued, "I get so tired," his words were heavy and slow, "I know what they expect from me, but if they really knew me," he looked back up into my eyes, completely open and boyish, "I'd disappoint them- and you." He watched my eyes for a moment, careful to let his last statement sink in. His gaze then dropped to my hand, following as one of his held mine in place while the other ran the length of my fingers.

Staring at the top of his head, I tried to ignore the tingling surging up my arm, stoking the fire he'd already lit. Clearing my throat, I withdrew my hand, finding it hard to think properly through his ministrations. He looked up at me as I looked away from him. At the moment, I felt very uncomfortable. So, I unbuckled myself and turn my body so that I was leaning against the cool door, my legs pulled up and crossed. Reflexively, I pulled the collar of Mamoru's sweatshirt to my nose as I set my brows, trying very hard to look like I was thinking while incapable of having a thought.

"So," I began, my eyes searching everything below waist height for inspiration, "you've been pushing everyone away to protect them from disappointment? That sounds more than just a little arrogant," I raised my eyes to his, lifting an eyebrow, figuring now wouldn't be a bad time to try and lighten the mood with teasing. He smiled faintly, shrugging. "I guess, I know what you mean, though. When you found me," heat started to bloom in my cheek as I couldn't believe I was about to tell him this, "at the bridge, I was avoiding my mom." I dropped my eyes from his to watch my fingers pick at each other before continuing. "She has a sixth sense that tells her when I have tests. I swear, it's freaky." I glanced at him. "I didn't want to tell her I'd failed it. She gets so disappointed," I allowed my voice to drop, feeling a renewed sense of guilt and dread.

"So, you stood out in the rain and got sick, instead?" he asked, incredulously.

"I didn't mean to," my eyes shot up at him with knitted brows, thinking he was insulting me, but his smile wasn't mean. Just happy.

His look changed in an instant, though. He was serious again and it took some willpower to keep from looking away. Sliding over his seat, towards me, he leaned in and paused inches from my face. My breath hitched, guessing why he'd gotten so close, hoping that he'd follow through. His eyes roamed my face for a brief moment, searching for I don't know what.

"May I?" He finally asked, soft and slightly unsure.

I gulped. "It doesn't matter that I'm not the Princess?" I asked, my voice squeaking.

He smirked. "That you're the Princess and Sailor Moon doesn't matter," he paused, watching my eyes widen, but my surprise faded rather quickly. A sheepish smile spread across my face. replacing my shocked expression. I felt embarrassed for thinking that the great Chiba Mamoru would miss such a blatant hint as the one I'd dropped earlier. "I just want you," he finally concluded, reaching a hand to stroke one of my blazing cheeks.

"Faults and all," I smirked back, "and even though I'm sick?"

Without answering, he latched his fingers behind my neck and pull my head toward him, pressing my lips to his. My smile faded as I, for the first time, kissed him back.

-

FINIS.

To my faithful, benevolently patient RTR'd (Readers That Review'd)

I am your most Humble Servant

The Author


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